


Neighborly

by curiouserncuriouser



Series: The Songbird [6]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouserncuriouser/pseuds/curiouserncuriouser
Summary: Shyla just wanted to find an escape that was the opposite of Hollywood, someplace she could retreat to for a little quiet to be with her thoughts. Her new neighbor, however, had other plans in mind.
Relationships: Sam Heughan/Original Female Character
Series: The Songbird [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699837
Comments: 20
Kudos: 22





	1. Second Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> CW: there will be some discussion of sexual assault and rape in this story, but it doesn't contain any rape or non-consensual sexual activity. 
> 
> This work is part of a larger series titled "The Songbird". It's not necessary to read that to understand what's going on here. But if you want to read all the plot leading up to it & learn more about the character, please check out the first work in the series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905268/
> 
> If you HAVE read that, this picks up during award season after Civil War, so a number of months afterwards.

She wasn’t really sure why she even went to award show afterparties. Conceptually, she knew she should probably spend it networking. But she hated that, she always had even before “networking” involved trying to rub elbows with the coolest, most beautiful people in the world, when she definitely didn’t yet feel like she was among their ranks. Now she at least knew a few more people, with the sheer size of the Avengers cast being what it was, but they were all cool and smooth and had been in the business forever, she didn’t want to be an albatross around anyone’s neck, keeping them from talking to old friends and new connections.

So after the initial greetings of her friends, and a few introductions, she was starting the mental countdown to when it would be safe to leave. She decided she would grab another drink, try to go slow with it, and if she couldn’t find a good conversation by the time the glass was empty, she’d sneak away. Of course, there was a line at the bar, which delayed things. But on the plus side, it made for a better excuse to not attempt to approach people. Can’t lose her place!

“You’d think they’d have anticipated that this crowd would want to drink,” she heard a Scottish burr over her shoulder. She turned and had to look almost straight up to see the man behind her. She cursed herself for not wearing taller heels.

“Right? Between the celebration, the commiseration, and the alcoholism, they really ought to have more bartenders.”

He smiled down at her, “Hi, I’m Sam Heughan.”

“Shyla Riddle," she took his offered hand. "Oh! You’re from Outlander! Congrats on your win, you all really cleaned up tonight!”

He gave the closest thing a Scottish giant could manage to a demure grin, “Thank you! We did quite well for ourselves! I’m sorry you didn’t win your category, I thought you were great in Civil War.”

“Oh, I didn’t stand a chance, Margot Robbie was fantastic. Losing to her is a reward unto itself.”

“Very humble of you, but I still thought you should have won.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she blushed a little, but then stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment. The line was still not moving, and now that the most basic of pleasantries was out of the way, she had no idea what else to say. She hadn’t seen his show, she just knew that a number of her girlfriends thought he had a nice ass. There was something he could be useful for, but it was maybe kind of forward to ask? Whatever, nothing ventured… “So…I imagine you film in Scotland, do you live there full-time?”

“I do, yes.”

“This might be a weird question, but: you don’t happen to know an estate agent in Edinburgh, do you?”

He looked surprised, “I do, actually. I recently bought a home there.”

“Would you be able to give me their details? I haven’t been having much luck.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to. Are you buying a place in Edinburgh?”

“I’m thinking about it, yeah.”

“Are you…planning on filming something there?”

“Yeah, a bit. But mostly I just…wanted a change. LA kind of sucks, especially year-round. I went to grad school in Edinburgh, many years ago, and thought I might get a flat there. I still have friends in the area, but most of them that have bought property aren’t in the city proper, and I haven’t decided where I’d want to be.” Look at her, networking! Sure it wasn’t going to get her work or anything, but she was proud she even asked, normally she would have not thought about it until after he’d walked away.

They chatted about Edinburgh for the rest of the line up to the bar, and then started discussing whisky. She didn’t embarrass herself too badly, even if they differed in the specifics of their tastes, at least she knew what she was talking about. She gave him her information, so he could pass along recommendations, and once they had their drinks, they went their separate ways.

She figured he’d never remember to send the info, but at least she’d tried. And she hadn’t just turned into a puddle because a good-looking dude in a suit spoke to her. She still had to fight the impulse to assume that guys who were _that_ attractive must surely be speaking to literally anyone else but her. She still wasn’t used to Hollywood. Well, at least this guy…his hair was too long, she thought it looked kind of dorky. Surely it was for the show, and it’s not like she hadn’t thought Sebastian was still hot when he did the same thing. But it made it easier to not be overwhelmed by the hotness. She wondered if it would be weird if she watched some of his show now, she was a little curious about the broad, strong body she noticed under his tux.

She didn’t, however, notice his eyes on her as she walked off.

* * *

She’d done it! She found an adorable semi-detached house that was a decent size, had space for guests, a good-sized kitchen, and a bit of a yard. She wasn’t planning on staying full-time here, so she wasn’t shipping much from her house to furnish it, but now that she was free from other commitments for a bit, she could take the time to get the place decorated. And she’d get the chance to hang out with some of her friends as well. It had been a long year, and she was just looking for some peace for a while.

So when something woke her up, still jetlagged, not to mention sore from trying to wrestle the mattress to her new room, she was ready for murder. The idiot next door was playing some super loud music, way too early in the morning. She tried banging on the wall, but they clearly didn’t hear. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep through this, and she desperately needed at least a couple more hours of sleep. She hadn’t met her new neighbor yet, so this was a terrible way to start things, but she needed to ask them to turn it down. She hauled herself off the mattress on the floor, pulled on a hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts. It was cold out, but this was what she could easily find. They probably wouldn’t answer anyway.

She slipped into a pair of shoes near the door and stomped outside. They shared a stoop, so it was steps away, and she knocked on the door. No answer. She rang the doorbell, it was surprisingly loud. Hopefully this person wasn’t too popular, she was sure it would be just as loud in her flat. She’d have to get a doorbell with a different chime, so at least it wouldn’t be confusing. She rang it again. And then a couple more times to be sure. When she was ready to give up, she heard the pounding of footsteps inside. Shit, was _everything_ this asshole did so fucking loud?

The door swung open, and she started, “Hey man, it’s early and I…it’s _you_!” It was the very man who’d recommended her estate agent to her, Sam Heughan. Strange that the agent hadn’t mentioned who her new neighbor would be. Sam had cut his hair, and she had clearly interrupted a workout, he was wearing a sleeveless tee and he was dripping sweat, but despite looking rather different from when he was in a tux, it was him. And he looked…too good for 7am on a Saturday.

Sam stood there looking multiple varieties of surprised. “Oh…Shyla? What…what are you doing here?”

“Well, assuming this is your home…I’m your new neighbor. That’s me,” she pointed towards the door a couple of feet to his left.

“Oh, I didn’t realize someone had moved in. Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Thanks. Hey, I don’t mean to be a bitch, but your music is incredibly loud, and it’s very early in the morning. Do you think you could use headphones or something please?”

“Oh, well, I’m almost done. Just a few more reps and you won’t hear any more.”

This wasn’t a very satisfactory answer, but she wasn’t sure how far she wanted to push it. But, on the other hand…sleep. “Could you do the last few reps without music?”

“I guess, but really, I’m almost done,” he sounded annoyed

“It’s so early, and I’m so jetlagged. I’ll buy you some ear buds for next time, if you just…”

He cut her off, “I don’t need you to buy me anything. Fine.”

“Thanks. Have a nice workout,” she tried not to sound mean but she couldn’t keep the snippy tone entirely out of her voice. She gave him a half-assed wave and went back to her door.

Oh. Oh shit.

The door had automatically locked behind her. And in her rush, she hadn’t grabbed her keys. “FUCK,” she barked, kicking the door and immediately regretting it, as she was wearing ballet flats.

Sam was still watching her. “Did you need something?”

She groaned in annoyance at herself. “No, I just…yes. I forgot the door locks automatically. I locked myself out. And my phone is in the house.”

He was grinning at her misfortune, and she kind of wanted to kick him, too. But he looked even more solid than the door. He asked, “So…would you like to borrow my phone?” She nodded, very reluctantly. “Well then come inside,” he offered.

She was sorely tempted to decline his offer, but the breeze chose that moment to have a particularly cold gust, so she just brushed past him and scurried into the house. Inside, the layout looked like the mirror image of hers. His was obviously furnished. It seemed a bit sterile, very much a bachelor pad. She was scowling a little, she tried to make her face assume a different shape, but with the music still blaring, she didn’t think she’d be able to manage “pleasant.”

He broke the non-silence, seeing her shiver, “Why are you wearing _that_? I thought you’d lived in Scotland before?”

“Are you judging my sartorial choices? Dude, you woke me up. I had to put something on, I wasn’t planning on being out for long,” she grouchily defended herself.

“But still, it’s pissing rain and the wind is bitter today. You should have at least found some trousers.”

She sighed, getting annoyed at the lecture. “Look, can I just borrow your phone?”

“Of course. But there is a way to get into your side without a locksmith. I don’t think you’ll be fond of it, though.”

Christ, it was too early for games. “What do I have to do?”

“Well, we both have access to the attic. And there is nothing preventing you from going up through mine and down through yours.”

“That is…terrifying! Holy shit, why did they do that? Couldn’t they have created some sort of barrier in the attic?”

“Well, today it’s useful.”

“And I suppose at least now I know if things get moved around or missing in my house, you’ve been creeping over while I’m not around.”

“I would never…”

“I’m not saying you _would_ , I’m saying you _could_. Alright, show me where.”

He led her up to the second floor and pulled open a hatch in the hall ceiling. No ladder or steps came down for her, so she looked at him expectantly. “Do you have a step ladder or something?”

“Aren’t you a superhero? Can’t you fly up?” he grinned down at her.

Charming though his smile was, she was not in the mood for any of his shit, “You know, I left that ability in the FX department at Marvel. Aren’t you supposed to be a Scottish gentleman? Can’t you get up there and just let me into my half?”

“Hardly any fun in that.”

“Well what’s the next step in this genius plan, then? Because I can’t hop up there myself, so if you aren’t going to…”

“Fine, I’ll give you a boost.”

“A what? No, just…maybe if I stood on a chair?”

“You’re too wee by half, you’d wind up trying to jump or some other foolishness and break your neck. I can lift you like a dancer, or you can get on my shoulders.”

“This is ridiculous, I’ll break my leg getting down on the other side. I’m just going to call a locksmith.”

He grabbed her arm as she turned to walk away, and she shook it off, fairly growling at him. He was getting awfully tired of her attitude, so he said, “The quicker we do this, the quicker I’ll be done with you, and I have no motivation to keep you around. I’ll come up after you and let you down on the other side.”

She heaved an annoyed sigh, mumbled something that sounded rather like “asshole” and walked back to him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Which way will be easiest for you, the lift?”

“Your choice, princess.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “Fine, lift then. I’ll jump on three.” He positioned himself, planted his feet, and put his hands around her waist. “One…two… _three_!” she leapt into the air, as best she could, and he hoisted her up.

Angry though he was at her, he had to admit that, from the face-full of her he got when his arms extended, she smelled good, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing anything under her hoodie. And when he put his hands on her waist…well, it had been a while since he’d done that in anything other than a professional capacity for the show. It stirred a little something inside him. But that was soon tamped down when she fumbled her feet onto his shoulders to try to boost herself the last bit of the way, nearly kicking him in the face. He grunted in protest but didn’t say anything she could hear.

When she was up and in, he saw her head peek over the edge to say, “Wait, how are you going to…?” Then she squeaked and retreated as she saw he was giving himself a running start to leap at the opening. He caught the edge, and pulled himself in through the opening. She would never admit it, but that was impressive as shit. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight function, and they made their way over to her side of the attic. When they got the door open, she lowered herself out of the hatch and he took her by the forearms to lower her closer to the floor.

She looked back up at him. “Well, thanks I guess.”

“I think we all learned a valuable lesson today.”

“Yeah, that I need to get a ladder and a lock.”

“And I learned that you must sleep in the nude, and have no qualms telling your neighbor off without a bra on.” He heard her calling him an asshole as he disappeared and closed the door, and went back to his side feeling chuffed.

She grumbled her way back to bed, kicking off her shoes and pulling off the hoodie before flopping down on the mattress. Of course, seconds later, she heard the music start up again, and she could swear it was even louder than before. Fucking _asshole_.


	2. Turning Tables

Over the course of the week, she started pulling things together for her new home. She trolled antique shops as well as home goods stores, and things she’d ordered online or shipped prior to her arrival starting getting delivered as well. She hadn’t had any more dust-ups with Sam, although he still listened to music at unholy decibel levels, he at least wasn’t doing it at dawn. She felt a little bad for being a jerk about his music, but any time the guilt crept in she remembered his comments about her bra (or lack thereof) and got angry at him all over again.

She’d decided to dedicate Saturday to trying to put together the “some assembly required” items. She made herself a relatively hearty breakfast, got changed into her work clothes, put on some belt-worthy showtunes and got to it. She was sorely tempted to play the music loud, but she didn’t want to hurt her own ears to get payback on him. She did sing along, though, knowing she wasn’t exactly a quiet singer. And she didn’t try to keep the construction noise down, either.

She was a little shocked, though, when less than ten minutes later she got a text from Sam, “could you keep it down over there? You’ve made your point”

She waited a few minutes, maintaining the volume, then tapped out, “Furniture won’t put itself together, sorry. Shouldn’t take too long though, and at least it’s the middle of the day!”

She went back to singing at full volume, with a little grin on her face. Serves him right.

The next text said “Could you cut down on the wailing, at least?”

Asshole. “Enjoy the free show, people pay an awful lot to hear my wailing.”

She tossed her phone away so she could focus on the task at hand. She enjoyed that it caused him some degree of suffering, but she didn’t want to spend all day on a single bookshelf. She just sang even louder as she used power tools, and she had to put a little effort in to nail “Glitter and Be Gay” from Candide. Not a typical showtune, but today she was extra glad it was on the mix, because those high notes would really piss Sam off. She heard more notifications on her phone, and assumed he’d texted a response, but didn’t bother to look. After she started in on the next song, belting “When You’re Good to Mama” from Chicago, there was a knock at the door.

She danced over and flung the door open, and of course, there stood Sam. “Do you mind at least singing a little quieter?”

“IF YOU’RE GOOD TO MAMA, MAMA’S GOOD TO YOUUUUUU,” she sang, delighted at the timing of the lyrics.

“Alright. You have made your point. My music was too loud for such an early hour. I didn’t realize how thin the walls were. I will use headphones.”

She brought her phone up and tapped the screen, pausing the music. “That’s weird, maybe my music is too loud for me to hear you properly, but it didn’t actually sound like you apologized for _any_ of your behavior.”

“ _My_ behavior? You’re the one who interrupted my workout to shout at me! And then got your revenge by shrieking like a harpy! I helped you get back into your flat and everything!”

“Wow, fuck you! You _helped_ me? Congratulations on performing the most basic act of human decency by not leaving me outside to freeze. Would you like a cookie? You’re the one who had your music on at top volume at dawn, then sexually harassed me. All week you’ve _still_ been listening to your music loud, but I wasn’t a dick about it, and then the ONE day I dare to make noise you start being an asshole about my voice?”

“Sexually harassed you? You’ve got to be joking! How did I do that?”

“That fucking comment about not wearing a bra. And you probably orchestrated that whole ‘I’ve got to lift you into the attic’ thing, you perv. And shit, just telling me, a single woman living alone, that you could get into my home at any point and I couldn’t do anything about it? And pointing out I probably sleep in the nude? How _exactly_ am I supposed to take all of that information?”

Part of his brain knew she was right, and that he should backtrack and apologize for acting like a tit. But that wasn’t the part that was in charge right now. So instead of having a reasonable response, he said “Like I would sneak over into _your_ bedroom! You wish!”

She didn’t even take a moment to look shocked at the insult, she just scowled at him as she slammed the door in his face. He could hear the music pick up again, even louder than before. He cursed, at himself more than her, and went back to his side of the world. He needed to go for a run, clear his head, even if it was pissing rain. He wasn’t going to be able to get any work done with her scream-singing at him anyway.

By 3pm, she’d long since sung herself out. She was trained, she could sing for a long time without feeling the strain, but this wasn’t exactly a concert she was performing, she couldn’t revenge-sing at someone literally all day. Tempting though it may be. At one point she even found some ear plugs and turned her music up as high as it would go. But when she was finished building the various pieces of furniture, she turned the music down to quiet background-music levels and switched to a chill playlist. She was still pissed at him. She was considering calling the estate agent, to see if there was any way to be able to back out of the sale on the grounds that the neighbor was an insane asshole.

As she was putting things on her newly-built shelves, she noticed she had tears on her cheeks. She felt so stupid. Why was she letting that dick get her spun up so badly? She hadn’t really thought he was going to sneak into her house at night and rape her, even if it was a really idiotic allusion for him to make. She felt more unsafe over the fact that he was being so _awful_ about this, it felt like he was trying to scare her away, and she’d only lived here for a week. She wasn’t even planning on living in this house full-time, she just wanted to escape here when she wasn’t needed in LA. But she didn’t want to be scared off. At the same time, was it worth it? She didn’t want to start some sort of feud with him. Not only was he her neighbor, he was a fellow actor, she didn’t want to create gossip. Especially with the hot local-son celeb, the press in the UK could be relentless and she would not be painted in a good light. Fuck. Would this be better or worse if he wasn’t hot? Probably better. At least then it wouldn’t feel so _messy_ when he was close.

She heard a knock at the door. She realized she really needed to get a peep hole installed in the door, so at least she could avoid fights with her delightful neighbor. Maybe he’d give up if she just disengaged.

But she opened it anyway, and almost immediately tried to slam it again when she saw it was Sam. Before she could, he stuck his foot in, and the door bounced back. “What are you doing?” she shouted, hoping the neighbors would hear so at least when they tried to figure out time of death after he murdered her, it might be a bit easier.

“I came to apologize! Please, Shyla, just let me in, it’s pissing out here.”

She stood in the doorway for a second, looking him over. Whatever she saw, she stepped back, and let him in. But not without turning his words on him, “Why are you wearing _that_? I thought you’d lived in Scotland your whole life?”

He was in a t-shirt and jeans, and had not properly equipped himself to wait in the rain for long. “That is a fair shot.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, and huffed, “Okay, you came to apologize? Apologize.”

“Well…I’m sorry my music has been so loud. Truly, I didn’t realize until today just how thin the walls were. I will absolutely keep it down in the future.” He waited for her to say something, she didn’t. So he continued, “And…everything else I’ve said and done. It was not my intention to scare you about being able to get into your home, I’m happy to pay for someone to apply locks to each side. And install ladders, so you can access your side as well.” She was still giving him an icy stare, so he went on, “And most of all, I wanted to apologize for the mean things I said about you. Your voice is lovely, I understand why people would pay a premium for it. And I have no excuse for making jokes about sexual assault, or making it about your looks at all.”

She looked at him for a long moment, arms still crossed. It was only when he stopped talking that he realized her eyes looked red and puffy, and he felt a fresh pang of guilt that he’d made her cry. He wanted to comfort her, give her a hug or something, but she pretty clearly wouldn’t welcome that from him right now. She took a deep breath, and huffed it out. “Is this how it’s going to be, as neighbors? Because an apology here and there isn’t going to make up for the fact that you’ve been intentionally assholish all week and then basically told me you’d rape me if I wasn’t so damn ugly.”

“That wasn’t what I…No. I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful woman.”

“I’m not mad you think I’m ugly, I don’t give a shit what you think I look like. My confidence isn’t riding on your opinion.”

“You’re just intimidatingly beautiful, I ran my mouth!”

“Wow, so I went from unfuckable to ‘intimidatingly beautiful’? That was fast!” she scoffed.

“You’re not unfuckable! Christ, Shyla, I really am trying to apologize here. I don’t want to be this kind of neighbor. Can’t we at least have a truce?”

“I don’t know, _can_ we? I can manage my side of things, but I don’t have a lot of faith in _you_ right now.”

“Yes, for chrissakes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I will stop with the music.”

“And the insults and the creepy shit?”

“And the insults and the ‘creepy shit’,” he agreed. She stuck out her hand, and he shook it. He wasn’t really sure what to do next. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he attempted.

She gave him a little side-eye, “Thanks. It’s not much so far, but I shouldn’t have much more that will require tools, so I can keep up my side of the bargain.” She didn’t think it would be good for their peace agreement if she just kicked him out. She looked down at her feet, feeling awkward, hoping he would take the hint.

“Did you…need any help with anything? I may act a bit of a tit sometimes, but I’m useful when it comes to helping people move,” he offered.

The corner of her lips curled up a tiny amount. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to be nice to make up for things.”

“I’m just trying to be neighborly.”

She arched a brow at him, “After setting a rather poor precedent.”

“I said I was a tit!”

“You did, this is true. Well…actually…there is one thing I could use help with. It’s not a strength thing, more of a height thing, and…” she vaguely gestured to indicate the fact that he was probably a foot taller than her.

“Name it!”

She pursed her lips as she looked him over one more time. “Well, the issue is, I just…you know what, never mind, I can figure it out on my own.”

Her reluctance was almost as endearing as it was aggravating. Almost. “Shyla, let me help. Please.”

She groaned a little, then agreed, “Fine. It’s in the bedroom.”

He waited ‘til her back was turned to raise an eyebrow and smile, and he followed her up the stairs.

When they got to the top, she explained, “So…it’s the mattress. I got it up against the wall so they could deliver the bed, but I think it’s caught on a nail or something. I heard a ripping noise when I tried to pull it down. But I can’t see what’s up there, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Say nae more, lassie, I’ll give ‘er a look,” he laid the accent on thick. She gave a reluctant smile, pointed the way for him to give it a shot. “Let’s see…ah. Simple enough!” He reached over the top of the mattress and looked like he unhooked something, and then stepped to the end of the mattress. “Can I help you get it back on the bed?”

“You don’t have to…oh, okay, well, let’s do this,” she conceded as he got his hands situated on the mattress. “Alright. On the count of three? One, two, three,” there was a huge ripping sound as they tipped it onto the bed. Their eyes got huge. She went to investigate. “Fuck, Sam!” The sheet torn badly, as had the cloth cover on the mattress. Even the foam underneath had torn badly.

“Oh dear, Shyla I…”

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“What? No, I…”

She rounded the bed, and went right up to him, jabbing at his chest with her finger. “You did, didn’t you? You didn’t want a truce at all! What the fuck is this? Were you just biding your time?”

He took her hand to pull it off his chest, “No, Shyla, this is insane! It wasn’t…”

She yanked her hand away, “It’s ‘insane’? Whatever, I don’t need this shit,” and she turned to walk away.

He grabbed her arm, spinning her back around, “Shyla you don’t have to be such a…”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_. You better think hard about the next thing you say.”

“How can I get you to just shut up for _one second_ so I can explain?”

“How do you hate me so much that you…” but she didn’t get to finish her question before his lips came crashing down on hers. Her eyes went wide in shock. She felt her body cling to his before her mind could get a word in edgewise, her hands grabbing at his shirt. His hand was on the back of her head, and he was still gripping her arm, and kissed her angrily. She reached up and dug her nails into the back of his neck and scalp. He picked her up and nearly slammed her into the wall, and when her mouth fell open in a gasp, his tongue invaded. Part of her knew she should stop him, their fights shouldn’t go this direction. But the heat he created in her…she wanted him. And the anger, the rough handling, was only making it hotter. She’d never felt those feelings together before, other fights weren’t sexy, they were just upsetting. But this…

He held her against the wall with his bulk, as his hands started aggressively moving over her. When one started to roughly tug her shirt up, she worked her hand into his hair enough to give it a pull, tug him away, and she managed a “No!”

He immediately froze. “Shyla, I…” he panted.

“Please. Put me down,” she was using the small amount of control she had in her to not just continue kissing him, she had none left to spare to keep the shaking out of her voice.

He did as she asked, and took a step back, running his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. I…”

“I think you should go,” she tried to keep her tone bland, but it still sounded shaky, even to her own ears.

“Shyla, please, just let me…”

“No explanation required. Please.”

“Why will you not even listen to me?”

“Why won’t _you_ listen to _me_? Just because _you_ don’t have much respect for me doesn’t mean I can’t have it for myself. I said _go_.”

He looked more than a little shocked, but there was clearly no talking to her now. He hung his head, and walked out, down the stairs, out the door, and back into his home.

Oh Christ, what had he done? _Why_ had he done that? She definitely was going to think he was some awful rapist now. He’d just…been overwhelmed. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t found Shyla attractive from the start. It was why he talked to her in line at the bar. And he’d hoped when she gave him her number, it was for more than just the listing agent’s number. But she hadn’t kept up communication, just thanked him for the info once she had it, and that was it. She hadn’t even let him know that she’d bought a place, much less that she was moving in. Of course, maybe if she had he would have noticed sooner that she was going to be his neighbor, and they could have avoided some of this mess. That wasn’t really her fault, though.

But why had he _kissed_ her? One second he was angry, furious really, that she was still…being such a bitch, for lack of a better word. Was she _always_ this difficult? He’d wanted her to just stop talking, maybe if she’d listen she’d realize he wasn’t a bad guy. But his adrenaline started pumping, and all the emotions roiling inside, and they were in her bedroom, and her cheeks were flushed and she was just…

She was just going to think he was a rapist, after shoving his tongue down her throat like that. Even thinking about it…ugh. He felt mixed up. That kiss was…intense. And she seemed to be onboard with it. Until she wasn’t. And what she said about respect, that cut to the bone. He _did_ respect her. He sure as hell hadn’t acted much like it, though.

He wanted to fix this. At the very least, he wanted to have a neighbor who didn’t hate him. And who wasn’t scared of him. But when he’d tried, he made it way, way worse. He couldn’t go into her space again, not without scaring her. He rather doubted she’d be willing to come over to his place. How could he make this better?

He unlocked his phone, opened his texting app. He scrolled back to their conversation, from months prior, with the unfortunate recent additions insulting her voice. He added “Shyla, I can’t apologize enough for everything I have done. Tearing your mattress was not intentional, but I will gladly replace it, just text me which one to buy. Otherwise, I can leave you alone.” Then he added “And I stand by the truce, I will keep my music down.” He saw them marked as read, but she didn’t respond. Well, it was all he could do tonight. Might as well try to take his mind off it, study his lines for Monday.

Some time later, when he was almost ready to admit defeat and accept that he was too distracted to accomplish much of anything, his phone pinged. When he saw Shyla’s name on the notification, he unlocked the phone immediately: “Can I sing? It won’t be too loud.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Even if this was intended to be passive-aggressive, it was hardly a mean request. “Please do, I was just about to order tea, it would be welcome entertainment.” After he hit send, he wondered if she would take it as sarcasm.

He knew she was a Disney Princess, but that and her showtunes prowess from earlier didn’t really prepare him for the sad notes he heard through the wall. He couldn’t tell what she was singing, he went and put his ear to the wall. If she was listening to a track it was too quiet to hear, but her voice drifted through, picking up when she got to the chorus, enough so he could make out the words. “I won’t let you close enough to hurt me…”

He slid down the wall, listening to her song. He still wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be an attack, but he was pretty sure if it was, it would be louder. And it was just beautiful. If she was trying to make him feel like an asshole, it was working. But at the next song, he realized she might just be listening to a playlist. A very sad playlist. This wasn’t about him, this was just a woman who had just moved someplace where she had very few connections, and her new neighbor acted like an arse, (unintentionally) threatened to rape her, wrecked her bed, and then kissed her without exactly getting consent first. Yelling at her throughout. Oh god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs, if you want:  
> Glitter and Be Gay: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyDOBnUQvUI  
> When You're Good to Mama: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoDS1lWdpjw
> 
> Also: Originally I had tried to write in Sam's Scots accent, but I was waaaayyyyyyy overthinking it, and it was getting a little cartoonish. You can supply the accent with your own imagination, sorry about that!


	3. Yardwork

He woke up late the next morning with Shyla on the brain. He thought he might have dreamed about her, he couldn’t remember what happened in the dream, just some vague images and sensations: seeing flushed cheeks, hearing sad music, feeling pressure on his lips. He wanted to push her out of his mind, so he rolled over and picked up his phone, looking for a distraction. Instead, he found a text that said, “You don’t have to buy me a new mattress.” Well, it wasn’t exactly enthusiastic or friendly, much less a declaration of undying love or an offer to come over and get naked, but at least she responded.

“Is there another way I can make it up to you?” he asked, hopeful. He realized after he sent it that it could be taken as a bit more sexual than he intended, and she had no reason to give him a charitable interpretation. But backtracking would definitely make it look sexual, so he left it. He lay in bed for a bit, wondering if she was still in her bed on the other side of this wall. His mind’s eye had no trouble picturing her there, he’d seen her bed. And, ill-advised though it may have been to say it aloud, he stood by his assessment that she likely slept in the nude. Or maybe just in her panties. His morning wood was steering his thoughts to imagining the specifics, trying to guess what kind of panties she preferred. If he were more awake, he’d probably feel guilty, but as it stood, he was too horny to let that spoil his fun.

He heard a crash from outside his window and went to investigate. That answered one question: she wasn’t in her bed anymore, she was in the back yard, and had just knocked over some patio furniture and was swearing at it. It was supposed to be a nice day today, even with the unpredictable nature of Edinburgh weather, by all accounts it was supposed to be a lovely September day. He wondered if she planned on doing some gardening. Well, as he was up, he might as well get himself cleaned up and get some coffee on.

After his shower, he went down to the kitchen. He could still see her puttering around in the back yard, there was a high wall around the perimeter of the gardens, but a low wall between their halves, so he could see her out the window. It wasn’t particularly warm yet, but he could see she’d taken her hoodie off and was glistening a little with sweat, so whatever she was doing, she must’ve been working hard. He filled his mug and went out on his back patio.

“Hello, neighbor,” he attempted. She was bent over, and with how her shorts fit he was reluctant to make her aware of his presence, but he didn’t need to give her any more reason to hate him.

She popped up and looked over at him. “Hello,” she returned in somewhat cool tones.

“Looks like it’s supposed to be a lovely day for yardwork. Would you like any help?” he offered, trying to sound as sunny as possible.

She crossed her arms and looked him up and down. “Why?”

“Please, Shyla. Let me start over and be more neighborly. I’m just offering to help. I still feel like a tit.”

She considered his offer. “Well…there is something I could use another pair of hands with. And it’s already broken, so you can’t really make it worse.”

He took another sip of his coffee, “Well I would love an opportunity to not to make things worse, for once.”

“Is there a gate here, or do you have to…”

He put his mug down, went to the divider and hopped over. He wasn’t trying to show off, he was just tall and it was easy so why not. But it only garnered an eye roll from her. He asked, “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Over here, my side of the shed,” she led him over to the small shed at the end of the yard. “It’s not locked, but it’s jammed in there, I think the wood has swollen. But the door jamb seems weak, and I’m worried if I yank it open, that wood will break.”

“So then you just want me to lean on a wall?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Can do!” he obliged and leaned where she told him.

“Don’t lean forward,” she advised, “I’m going to pull hard, I don’t want to hit you.”

“I’m glad to hear it, seems like a step in the right direction for me!” He could’ve sworn he almost saw her grin.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she mumbled. “Okay, on three. One, two, three!” She yanked…and nothing happened. They both started talking at the same time:

“How about if you…”

“No, I just need to…”

And she gave it another pull, and this time it did open, and smacked Sam right in the head.

Her eyes got big as she looked up at him, “Oh shit! I’m _so_ sorry!” She tried to stop herself, but a laugh bubbled up out of her throat before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. “Are you okay?”

He gave an embarrassed smile, “I’ll be fine.” He touched his fingers to where the door had made contact, and when he drew it back…

“Shit, you’re bleeding!” she instinctively moved a hand to his face.

The look on her face took his breath away for a second. Even for all that she didn’t like him, she was still sincerely concerned for him. He felt a smile on his lips, despite the pain.

“Let’s get you inside, get that cleaned up,” she insisted.

He tried for cavalier, “Don’t you want to explore the shed you were so desperate to get open?”

This time she gave him a genuine smile, “I think the cobwebs can wait until we get a better look at that. Headwounds can be bleeders.”

He agreed and followed her into her house. She sat him down at the table and bustled to gather some supplies. She came back with a first aid kit and started gently dabbing at the cut. He flinched and sucked in a breath, grabbing her hand. She started to apologize, “Sorry, I…”

“No, it’s fine, just stung a bit,” he explained. He was staring into her eyes, when he realized he was still holding her hand, and he dropped it.

She saw him blush a little. This huge beast of a Scotsman, who was in a TV show that, from what her friends had said, was mostly a thinly-veiled excuse for him to be naked, was blushing because he held her hand. God, she wished that wasn’t so endearing. “Okay, you big baby. Tough up for a moment, it’ll be over soon.”

“As you wish, princess,” he quipped. She smiled and shook her head at him, as she held his jaw in one hand, cleaned the cut with the other. “Ah, so is it movie references in general, or Princess Bride specifically that makes you smile? For future reference.”

“For future reference?”

“In case I need to get you to smile again.”

“Did you have more plans to insult me, that you needed to plan for some smiles to balance things out?”

“No, I swear it. I was angry and stupid. And your voice is really beautiful, I enjoyed your songs last night.”

“Sorry, I was trying to be quieter.”

“You don’t have to worry about it, if anything you should’ve been louder!”

“Careful what you wish for, we don’t want to start this whole kerfuffle all over again. There you go, all clean. It doesn’t look like it’s much of a bleeder, a band aid should suffice.” She turned to her first aid kit and brought out the antiseptic and a bandage. She delicately applied the ointment and had him all fixed up in no time. “See, that wasn’t so bad!”

She started to turn away, but he took her hand, “Shyla, wait. I wanted you to know…I _do_ respect you. Very much so.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment, before narrowing skeptically. “Sam, if you’re just trying to get into my pants…”

“No! No, no! I just…didn’t want you to go on thinking I didn’t respect you. I’m sorry that my anger and stupidity came across that way.”

She still examined his face but didn’t pull away. “Well…thank you. It takes a lot to admit when you’re wrong. I’m sorry I…thought the worst of you. I’ve been pretty stressed, but that’s no excuse.”

“No, don’t worry yourself. I just hope that moving forward, we can…do better by each other.”

She gave him a small smile, and he returned it when she nodded. He rand his thumb over the knuckles of her hand, his subconscious wanting to continue the connection he was feeling with her.

She pulled her hand away, “Sam, I…I don’t think this should happen,” gesturing between them.

“I didn’t mean…well, I guess I did. That kiss last night was…”

“Was two people with their blood boiling over.”

“So it wasn’t just me?” he grinned optimistically.

She wouldn’t give into his joke, she continued, “It was just a basic human drive. When people are in heightened emotional state, they want to turn to the four Fs: fighting, fleeing, feeding, and…” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to recite the final F. “Mating,” she finished.

He stood, looming over her. “So, you’re saying that the _only_ reason for that kiss was because some primal part went from wanting to fight to wanting to…”

She cut him off, “Yes, that’s all.” She didn’t trust her body’s tightly-held control if he made it clearer what he’d wanted to do to her. What he still seemed to want to do to her.

He put his hand to her neck, base of his palm at her pulse, thumb running under her jaw, fingers moving back to her hairline. “Then which F has your heart racing right now?” he asked in a husky whisper. Her lips parted in surprise, and her eyelashes fluttered. He shifted his hand up, brushing her lower lip with his thumb, “Such pretty, pink lips. Are you sure, Shyla? About…this?” imitating her gesture, pointing between them.

“No,” she barely whispered.

“No, you’re not sure?” he grinned down at her wickedly.

“No, we shouldn’t. Sam, we’re neighbors, we can’t just…” she trailed off.

He withdrew his hand, and she tipped towards him minutely in its absence. “Well, then, I suppose that makes it easier for you to find me, should you change your mind.”

He stepped away and walked back out to the garden.


	4. The Gamble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut! Kind of a quickie, but still fun!

When she went back outside, he was waiting for her by the shed. “So, what are you hoping for in here? Treasure?”

“Really just to see if there were any tools there, maybe save myself a trip to the DIY store.”

“I got a headwound and there’s not even any treasure in it? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“There might be treasure, let’s take a look.”

“After you,” he bowed and let her in. He ducked through the doorway after her, and they looked around. It was mostly cobwebs, ancient flowerpots, and a few miscellaneous tools and cans of paint, most covered in rust. They spent a while rifling through the drawers and looking under and around the various detritus before he admitted, “I don’t see any treasure, sadly. Or a lawnmower.”

“No, nor do I. Well, let’s see, what’s up here?” she went to the back wall and stood on tiptoe to try to reach a box on a high shelf. He tried not to stare at her legs as she stretched, but when he looked up, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, getting her out of the way of a stack of falling flower pots just in the nick of time. She had let out a strangled cry of surprise when he did, but pressed her face into his chest as the pots shattered. He squeezed her a little tighter as they coughed through the cloud of dust rising around them. When it settled, she looked up at him, smiling, “Well, there’s your adventure.”

He really wanted to kiss her. Her smile was enough, but when she licked her lips…he had to stop himself. Forced himself to let go of her waist, step away. He needed _her_ to want to kiss _him_. “Well, I suppose we got a taste of adventure at that. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think I got a scratch on the back of my leg, but most just dusty. You?”

“I think I’ll survive yet. Do you want me to look at the scratch?”

She turned to try to look at her backside, “I don’t see any blood, but it’s pretty dark in here, and I’m pretty disgusting right now. And thank you for saving me, I didn’t see those flowerpots fall, that would have hurt a lot. I might need a lunch break now, get cleaned up. I don’t think there’s anything worth saving in here, anyway.”

He resisted the urge to offer to help with the cleanup process. “What’s for lunch?”

She handed him a washcloth, in case he had gotten dusty, too. He was wearing more clothes than she was, and she was closer to the destruction, so he had less to do. He was sitting at her table again, but he had a good view of her in the kitchen. He surreptitiously watched her as she wiped down her arms, and then put her hoodie back on. When she got to her legs, he was less successful at subtlety as she bent over. But he heard her utter a little “ow!”

“Is it more than a scratch? Come here, let me help.”

“Is this what being neighborly is? Just you begging to help me?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said under his breath as she walked over. “Where does it hurt?” She stood in front of him and turned around, indicating a point on the back of her thigh. “Well, let’s have a look then.” He wrapped his huge hands around her leg, leaning in so he could get a better look. His thumb brushed very near the hem of her shorts, and he thought her pulse might have quickened again. “It’s not bleeding, but it does look like it broke the skin a little.” He took the washcloth from her, cleaning up all around the scratch with a few slow swipes, then slowly pressed it into the scratch, to clean up there. “Doesn’t look like it needs a plaster.”

She didn’t step away immediately, and he didn’t let go. His thumb traced her skin, and he heard her intake of breath. She turned towards him, “Sam, I don’t…”

He still had his hand on her thigh, but she wasn’t pulling away. “Which F is it now, Shyla?”

“Probably flee…” she hedged. She did feel a little like she might bolt, but she was frozen on the spot.

“Are you a betting woman?” he asked.

She did not expect that. “What do you…”

“I would wager that this,” he gestured between them, “isn’t adrenaline.”

“What would the terms of that wager be?”

“Well, if you’re right, I will give you respectful, neighborly space.”

“And if you’re right?”

“I think I get another kiss.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And how do you propose we settle this? This doesn’t really seem provable.”

“Kiss me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “ _What_?”

“You heard me. Kiss me. We’re not pumping with adrenaline right now, if it was just the fight, you won’t feel a thing, it’ll be like kissing your mum. But if _I’m_ right…”

“You’re an idiot,” she shook her head.

“An idiot who’s about to win a bet!”

“And you’re betting to get a kiss based on the outcome of…a kiss?”

“I only gamble when I know I’ll win. But this sounds like the stalling of a loser,” he taunted her. “Are you in?”

She sighed, “Fine.” She stepped in a little closer, “But I would like to point out that when I give my mom a kiss, she isn’t trying to put her hand up my shorts.”

“Too late, you agreed!”

She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as she lowered her face to his. She felt his free hand move to her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw on its path to the back of her head. She started to move to give him a peck on the cheek, knowing it was a cheap move, but thinking it worth a shot. But he wouldn’t let her get off that easily, his big hand guided her back, tilted her face, and their lips met.

She almost moaned, both from the sensation that shot straight to her core, and from the visceral knowledge he’d been right. She couldn’t give him that satisfaction, so she stayed quiet, but she didn’t break the kiss. Her hand moved to his chest, and she felt his lips curl into a smile and his hands flex on her skin.

Dammit. He won and he knew it.

He pulled her closer. Not hard, he was giving her the opportunity to back away. But he deepened the kiss, and her hand moved to the nape of his neck. That was the encouragement he needed, the hand on her thigh squeezed her and she felt a rumble come from his chest. She lowered her body, straddling the thick trunk of his thigh. She gasped a little into his mouth as she ground into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her whole body to his. He moved a hand to her lower back, encouraging the movement of her hips. Her thigh started moving against his cock and it was his turn to moan. He kissed along her jaw, then down her neck, as she held fast to him, running her hands up into his hair. “Still want to flee?” he asked against her racing pulse.

“No,” she managed.

“And do you want to fight me?” he growled, grabbing her ass.

“No,” she breathed.

“Then do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” she hissed, clutching him to her.

He stood, taking her with him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her to the living room, and started to lay her on the couch. “Wait!” she said, “Do you have a condom?”

He cringed, “No, I…”

“Then upstairs!” she popped back up off the couch and took his hand. His only disappointment was that she wasn’t taking the steps two at a time, but at least he got to watch her ass a little longer. When they crossed the threshold, she turned and lifted his shirt. He pulled it the rest of the way off while she got to work on his fly. She was going right for it, he was in shock for a moment before he got to work on her clothes, and then they were nude, stumbling towards the bed. She sat in front of him and started to reach for him, but he pushed her back to the bed and knelt. He didn’t go slow, he lowered his mouth straight to her and started in with long licks. He wanted to make a meal of it, wanted to make sure she didn’t regret it _and_ that she came back for more. It was the neighborly thing to do.

“Condom…drawer…fuck me,” she pleaded. He ignored her and focused on her clit. “Please…please fuck me!”

She was pulling his hair hard enough he couldn’t really ignore her anymore. “I am going to finish that later,” he said, as he got a condom and rolled it on. She scooted further back on the bed, and he prowled to her. She raised herself on an elbow to meet him, kissing him as he spread her legs and entered her. She was so wet, so ready, and so tight. He lost himself in her for a moment, felt like he was losing motor control of his body in favor of just the feeling of her. But he realized he hadn’t enjoyed her breasts yet, and found the motivation to move. He moved his hand to caress her, play with her nipple. His mouth moved down her neck and he bit into her shoulder. She cried out, nails digging into his back, and he drove into her roughly, picking up speed at the sound of his name on her sweet lips. He pulled her hair and she pulled his back, and they crashed into each other, coming in a rush together.


	5. Dares & Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't smutty, just some good teasing. The pacing got a little weird, but you'll get more smut very, very soon!

Sam got himself cleaned up and was surprised that she wasn’t there when he came back out to the bedroom. Had she just gone to clean up in another bathroom? Her clothes weren’t on the floor. He pulled his jeans back on, picked up his shirt and went to find her.

She was in the kitchen, making some lunch. Barefoot, he snuck up behind her, and she nearly hit the ceiling, she jumped so high when she realized he was there. “Dammit, Sam! Someone should put a bell on you!” She thumped him on the chest then, shaking her head, turned to return to her work.

“I’d be happy to wear whatever you want, lass,” he slid his arms around her waist and started kissing her neck.

But she shied away, stepping away from him towards the fridge. “Look, Sam, that was fun, but…”

He moved towards her again, took her hand and spun her towards him. “I thought it was a bit more than _fun_ we had.”

“I don’t know about that, it was…”

He lowered his lips to her ear, pinning her to a corner of the counter and growling, “In fact, I seem to recall you begging me to fuck you.”

“Like I said: it was fun. But that doesn’t mean that anything is happening with us. You’re my neighbor. We had a moment. That’s it.”

He was gobsmacked, “A moment? Shyla, we were both there. It seemed to be a bit more than that.”

“You did very well. But let’s not make it more than it was. Maybe you should go back to your side.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said no.”

“Sam, I think that you…”

“No, Shyla. I’m not going back home, not just yet. Not until you admit you felt something too.”

She sighed, “I felt like with both needed a little stress relief. And I think we got that.”

“No, it was something amazing. Admit it.”

“Are you just trying to get me to admit that you were good in the sack, is that what this is? Fine. You’ve got a nice cock on you. And you know how to use it. Are we done here?”

“Not by half, Shyla! There is something between us, and you know it.”

“I know no such…”

“I’ll prove it. I’m going to cash in on my winnings. Right now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our wager earlier. If I won, I got another kiss, and I clearly won.”

“You got plenty of other kisses. I don’t see what the point of this is.”

“This is the kiss I want for my payout, though. And after this kiss, I will ask you a question.”

“This is silly.”

“Are you going back on your word?”

“No, it’s just silly.”

“Well, I can deal with silly.”

He picked her up and sat her on the counter, standing between her legs, but not touching her with his hands. When she rolled her eyes and huffed a “fine”, he leaned down and placed his lips against hers. So softly at first, then gently parting his lips, letting his tongue slowly taste her. He wanted to tempt her into a response, not force her into one, so he had to pace himself. Normally he wasn’t used to being the tease, but he thought he could rise to the occasion.

Her hands were braced on the counter, and he ran just the barest tip of his finger up the soft skin on the inside of her arm. Starting at her wrist, moving slowly up to the elbow. He felt the muscles move as her hand gripped the counter, but she didn’t waver. He ran the backs of his knuckles along her upper arm, across her shoulder to her collarbone, and then up her neck, right where her pulse ran, and she shivered. That was good information to have. He continued along her jaw, below her ear, just grazing her earlobe. His other hand started very lightly tracing the skin on her thigh, below the hem of her shorts. He felt her breathing hitch a little here and there, but other than that, she held fast, and seemed to have no physical response other than continuing to kiss him back.

He was starting to feel frustrated in more ways than one. He knew he wasn’t imagining the connection he felt between the two of them. And he couldn’t believe it was one-sided. The way her body responded to his, they way she begged him to…but what if that wasn’t just him? Maybe that was just how she was, and he was just a warm body?

As his frustration rose, his patience waned. When his hand moved past her ear, he gave up, plunging his fingers into her hair and gripping her thigh. He was cursing his lack of self-control when she arched into him, and he felt her hands grabbing at him as she deepened the kiss with a small moan. He smiled as he held her close, _there_ she was! He’d been right: she felt it too. At the very least, she wanted him, she wanted to feel their bodies together just as badly as he did. He felt his heart soar and his cock swell, he had to resist the urge to wrap her legs around him and carry her right back upstairs. That wasn’t his goal right now.

He broke the kiss, but kept his lips almost touching hers, “Would you let me take you out?” He watched her lashes flutter as she opened her eyes, and looked at him with some confusion. He repeated, “Let me take you to dinner, Shyla.”

He couldn’t take any chances, he pulled her hair, started kissing her neck, until she sighed “Yes…”

He stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Does tonight work? I can come by at 7.”

“What?”

“I asked you out on a date, and you said yes. If tonight doesn’t work, we can find another night. It doesn’t have to be particularly posh, I’ve got something in mind I think you’ll like, no need to dress up.”

“Sam, I don’t think…”

“You don’t think tonight will work?” he grinned down at her.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Well, you accepted, so if it’s not a good idea, you’re to blame as well,” he booped her nose, and shoved his hand right back in his pocket. He did step back in closer, though, leaning in to hover just above her face and smile mischievously.

She rolled her eyes at him, “Fine. One dinner. And we’ll piss each other off about something silly, and you’ll see it’s not worth this much effort to get laid, and we’ll go back to being neighbors with a truce.”

“I doubt very much that’s what will happen,” he was so close when he said it, his lips brushed hers.

She held her ground as she returned, “You’re not as good of a tease as you think you are, Sam. You don’t have the patience for it.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, maintaining the closeness of their lips, “Too…hot-headed.”

He felt his hands pulling themselves out of his pockets involuntarily, and he forced himself to take a step away, putting his hands behind his back. She gave a small little laugh at him, and even knowing she was messing with him, it was like sexy music to his ears. He backed up, giving her a last look-over, and then turned on his heel to walk away. He called “See you at 7!” over his shoulder before he disappeared.

He didn’t need to look back to know she was still smiling.

At 6:59pm, he stood just inside his own door. He checked that he had his keys, his wallet, that his fly was zipped. He took one last look at his reflection, tried not to mess with his hair, and then walked out his door, went 3 feet to his left, and knocked.

He felt nervous while he waited. What if she wasn’t there? What if she was there, and came to the door in joggers, with no intention of going anywhere with him? He heard her voice from somewhere inside, which allayed at least one fear. When the door swung open, he felt his stomach do a somersault. She was wearing a navy blue dress with a gray cardigan over it, tucked in at the waist with a brown belt that matched her knee-high boots. She had her hair in soft curls over one shoulder, simple makeup on. He breathed, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” She eyed him suspiciously, “You thought I was going to bail on this, didn’t you?”

“It had crossed my mind as a possibility,” he conceded. “But I’m glad you didn’t. You look gorgeous.”

“You said that already,” she pointed out, but she was smiling.

“So I did.”

“I haven’t looked at the weather, is it supposed to rain? It was clear all day, but you never know here…”

“It’s supposed to stay clear all night. We might spend a little time outside, though, so you might want to bring a warm jacket.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she nodded, and reached behind her door to grab one off a hook. She slung her purse over her shoulder, and stepped out the door. “Ready to roll! You look nice too, by the way.”

He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, take her right back into her house before the door closed. But he reminded himself that that wasn’t the goal for tonight. Tonight he wanted to get her to like him. Not just tolerate him. Not just interested in his services as a bed warmer. But to want to go out on another date, and another.

He lead her to his car, still feeling the nerves. After his attempt at a casual exit from her place, as soon as he got back to his side he went into research mode. First he made arrangements for the date; he already knew where he wanted to take her and what to do, so that was done easily enough. Then he tried to find out a few things about her online, not so much as to seem creepy though. He paid little attention to the gossip rags, but a cursory glance told him she’d never been caught in anything scandalous. A couple alleged relationships with costars but those rumors didn’t seem like they went anywhere. And besides, they weren’t torrid affairs or anything, just standard “a male and a female had dinner together, could this be true love?” style ridiculousness. Her Instagram was a lot of charity stuff, pictures from her travels, plus some standard food, animals, funny things she’d seen. He was surprised there were so few selfies or self-promotion. Her Twitter feed was a few jokes, funny stories, memes, some politics and social issues, plus back-and-forths with her friends. Her Facebook page looked like it was probably run by her publicist, which also meant she likely had a private account under a pseudonym, but he wasn’t going to be so stalker-y he tracked that down.

From interviews she was smart and funny. And certainly sassy, he was glad that it wasn’t all directed towards him, she was perfectly capable of handing a journalist his arse if he got out-of-line. He spent more time than he should have in a YouTube rabbit hole with videos like “Shyla Riddle Tells Off Sexist Reporter” and “31 times Shyla owned interviewers”, chuckling at her rejoinders.

She seemed to dress…well, not in a high-fashion way, but in a style that suited her: feminine, cute, but relaxed and comfortable. He didn’t want to under- or over-dress, so he went with jeans, a nice crisp button-up, and a blazer. It looked a little academic, but she was a bit of a nerd, he thought she might not mind. Maybe even like it.

And from her smile, she did.

They made small talk on the way to the restaurant. He asked her about what projects she’d undertaken in her new home, if she had much left she’d planned to do. She asked him polite questions about filming the show, and where he’d lived in Scotland. When they arrived at the restaurant, he was the perfect gentleman. He opened the door for her, took her jacket, pulled out her chair. She gave him kind of a funny look when she sat but didn’t say anything as they looked over the drinks menu.

When the waiter came by, Sam ordered a bottle of red wine. Shyla returned “I hope you’re ready to drink that by yourself!” and started asking the server about the white wines. They agreed on one that sounded good, and when it was just the two of them again, she turned back to Sam, “Sorry, I promise I wasn’t trying to be difficult. Red wine doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize!”

“You know…you don’t have to do all this.”

“Do all what?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“The…well, the over-the-top chivalry.”

“’Over-the-top’?”

“It’s fine, I just want you to know you don’t have to try to make up for…everything. Don’t worry about it. _Tabula rasa_.”

“I’m not trying to make up for anything, Shyla.”

“Just…calm down. Be you. Be nice, but be you. And…it would probably be better if you don’t order for me without running it by me first.”

“Other allergies or sensitivities?”

“No, I just don’t like it.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I didn’t think that through. I’m sorry, that was stupid.”

“Only a little, but I forgive you.”

He chuckled, “That’s what I like about you, Shyla.”

“My magnanimous nature?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, that. But you’re no pushover. I like that you don’t put up with things, you don’t go along to get along.”

“Like letting my neighbor blast their music early on a Saturday?”

“Just so.”

“You didn’t seem like much of a fan at the time.”

“Well, even in the moment I knew I was being an idiot. I just…what can I say, you evoke a passionate response in me.”

“I was pretty shocked about the response, to be honest. But, I was pretty shocked you were the neighbor I was confronting.”

The server brought their wine, and the discussion continued. And it was _fun_. They playfully antagonized each other, joked, told stories of their lives. She only kicked him under the table a couple times, and even that was playful.

He was a little surprised. He’d been running under the assumption that she would be his antagonist on this date, that he would have to knock down her defenses with a combination of flirting and gentlemanly behavior. That he would have to be above reproach. But that no-bullshit attitude of hers made itself so plain, he realized he needed to rethink his approach. Really, he needed to rethink having an approach at all.

And he _loved_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, the next chapter will be posted soon and will be exactly what you're hoping for! Just had to get from Point A to Point B. 
> 
> Patience!


	6. Chapter 6

The dinner was excellent, and if anything he should have let her order for him, her food looked better. When the server came around to clear their plates and ask if they wanted dessert or any additional drinks, and her eyes lit up at the prospect of sweets. But Sam said, “Actually, I think we’re ready for the check.” He turned back to Shyla, “I promise, I’m not exerting my will, I just had other plans for dessert.”

“Ooh, now I’m intrigued!”

“Only now you’re intrigued?”

“I’m basically here for free carbs, so…yeah,” she winked at him.

He paid, and they left. She spent much of the car ride trying to guess where they were going next. He had sent a couple sneaky text messages, and Shyla caught him, so she assumed this was a clue and she wanted to play detective. He was impressed at her deductions, but she was nowhere near guessing correctly. He was pretty chuffed with himself that he came up with a plan she couldn’t figure out.

When they pulled up, he watched her looking around to figure out where she was. “This is lovely, where are we?”

“The is the Royal Observatory. I take it you’ve never been?”

“No, never! Oh, this is so cool!”

He thought he couldn’t have been more pleased with himself: not only had she not been able to figure it out, she _liked_ the idea. But then when they were out of the car, he felt her put her tiny hand in his on the walk to the steps. So he had to recalibrate his happiness-meter.

At the doors they were greeted by Liam, an old friend of Sam’s who worked at the observatory. After the introductions, he ushered them inside, and Sam exchanged a few whispered words before clapping him on the back. Liam gave them a tour, showing them the library and other features of the building. They made it up to the dome, there were a couple other researchers there, so Liam made some additional introductions and gave a dumbed-down version of an explanation of their research. Shyla asked a lot of questions, and was pleased to take selfies with the researchers, who were duly impressed by her. After taking a look at their work, when she’d asked all the questions she could think of before she got too far out of her depth, she turned to see Sam smiling at her.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later. Can we let the nice scientists get back to their work?”

“Sorry, yes, of course! Where’s Liam? I want to thank him before we go.”

“Oh, we aren’t going anywhere yet.”

“Oh? Well, what are we doing then?”

They said their goodbyes to the researchers, and went back down the spiral staircase, but Sam stopped on a middle floor. He led her to an exit door, and out onto a roof terrace, between the two towers of the observatory building. In the middle of the terrace, there was a picnic blanket set up, with a basket and everything, plus another blanket and a couple throw pillows. Liam handed Sam a lantern, and said “It’s all there, you can let yourself out when you’re done, just text me when you leave and I’ll lock up.” Liam nodded a goodbye to Shyla and left.

Sam turned to Shyla and felt a surge of pride when he saw her face. She had a hand to her mouth, happy shock in her eyes, “Oh, _Sam_!”

“D’you like it?”

“This is _beautiful_! I take it dessert is in the basket?”

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint on that front.”

He took her hand and they went and sat on the pillows. He removed the molten chocolate cakes from the basket, explaining Liam helped set everything up, he had disappeared to make sure the dessert would be nice and hot to help with the chill. There was also a bottle of whisky and a pair of Glencairn glasses, also to help with the chill. They ate, and then lay on their backs to watch the stars. This time he slipped his hand over hers.

“What would the plan have been if it was cloudy?”

“Ah, well, they have a planetarium as well, I would have taken the picnic inside.”

“What if I didn’t like dessert? Or whisky? Or pasta, for that matter?”

“Well the date would have been over before it started, and I’d be better off just being your neighbor.”

She laughed, “Ah, I see, that straightforward?”

“More or less.”

She rolled towards him, “Well, it’s been perfect. Thank you, Sam.”

He rolled to face her, “Thank you for begrudgingly agreeing to come out on this date that you promised would be full of fighting.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“I believe the words you used were ‘not worth it’. But my memory could be a bit fuzzy.”

“That sounds close. Alright, I admit it: I have had a great time. We did not piss each other off. You were excellent company.”

“As were you.”

They just looked at each other for a bit, smiling. Her smile turned a bit chagrinned, “You’re gonna make me be the one to kiss you, aren’t you? This is my punishment.”

He made a clucking noise with his tongue, “Well, now, I wouldn’t call it a punishment…”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you? Feeling like the big man with all the power?”

“I rather get the impression you don’t frequently find yourself in the position of being wrong, do you?” he gloated.

“Very true.”

“And is not kissing me my punishment for proving you wrong?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a…yeah, yeah it is. It’s a punishment,” she smiled. Her grin was so mischievous, he was so tempted to kiss it off her face.

“Alright,” he lowered his face closer to hers, “how about on the count of 3, we kiss? No punishment, everyone wins.”

“That sounds very reasonable.”

“Okay. One…two…three…” he lowered his lips to hers. Her lips were still smiling when he crashed into them, but after a moment she kissed him back. “Hey, you cheat!” he said, pulling away.

But she put her hands on either side of his face, “See? No patience!” and pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

Back at her door, he was expecting the classic end-of-a-date moment where he stands there, waiting for her to decide where the boundary fell, establish the limit. But she didn’t even delay, she opened her door and asked him “Are you coming in or what?”

He got inside, barely started to take his blazer off when her finger hooked into his belt and started tugging him along as she backed to the stairs, looking at him with that wicked smile. He threw his blazer to the floor and charged at her, banding and throwing her over his shoulder while she squealed. At least the neighbor wouldn’t complain about the noise.

He dropped her to the bed, and immediately started unzipping and pulling off her boots. She took off her belt and cardigan, and started trying to unzip her dress when his hands moved to her hips and he roughly pulled her to the side of the bed, kneeling in front of her. He bunched her dress up to her waist and started kissing along her thighs.

“Sam, wait…”

“I started a job earlier today that I have every intention of finishing,” he growled between kisses.

“Can’t I get out of my dress? Don’t you want to get undressed?”

He gripped her hips hard, “No. Not if it slows me down.”

She hurried to get out of her dress before he made it to his goal, and she only just managed: it was still gripped tight in her hand when her back arched and she started moaning. He rubbed her through the soft fabric of her panties, and sucked at her clit through the already soaked fabric. She had the opportunity to toss the dress aside when he rolled her panties down her legs, and then her hands were in his hair, urging him on. Excellent though he was with his tongue, part of her still wanted to beg him to fuck her. She wanted his arms around her while he moved inside her, but she could wait this time. After all that teasing about patience, it would hardly befit her to lose hers now.

But in no time, she was crying out, body barely even touching the bed as she hit the ceiling. She didn’t give him time to revel in his victory before she hastily started undressing him. She was surprised he didn’t lose a button. She got a condom while he finished getting out of everything, and before he could get on the bed, she had his cock in-hand, and was lowering her lips to his head. He bit down on his knuckle, sensing that if he wasn’t careful about how he encouraged this, she would be greatly displeased with him. When the initial blissful moment had passed he tenderly smoothed her hair, and with the other hand unhooked her bra.

She took her mouth from him for just long enough to roll onto her back and shuck her bra, then back between her lips he went. Since she was upside-down, it was an interesting sensation, having her tongue hit him differently. But she was able to take him deeper into her mouth this way, and he couldn’t stop the moan that came from his lips. When he opened his eyes, he realized her free hand had drifted down between her own legs, and the sight made him feel too close to coming for his tastes. He withdrew from her, and slid the condom on.

He stalked to the other side of her bed and crawled over her, kissing and sucking his way up her body. When he was at her breasts was when the most delightful sound he knew started up again: Shyla begging him to fuck her. He was happy to oblige, but slowly this time: they had all the time in the world. He rubbed himself up and down her slit, paused at her entrance, and then repeated the motion. She was grasping at him, begging with her body as much as her mouth, “Please, Sam! Please, I need to feel you!”

He lifted her knees up to her chest, hooking his arms under them and pinning her to the mattress, and slowly slid inside her. He could pretend it was in deference to how tight she was, to avoid hurting her, but really it was just to torture her, make her squirm and beg all the more. When he bottomed out and they both grunted, he slid back out just as slowly, but then his patience failed and he couldn’t help but slam into her. Feeling her tense up all around him, he slid out slowly once more, then slammed into her again, and repeated until he drove himself crazy with the pacing. She came hard and fast, and he was grateful for the excuse to pause for a moment. He thought she would need a breath, but she crawled to the headboard, bracing her front against the wall and sticking her ass in the air. After the wicked look she shot him over her shoulder, he scrambled over to her and was inside her again in the space of a breath. He adjusted her leg positioning so he could manage longer strokes, and he reached his long arms to her front so he could hold her breast and massage her clit. She didn’t last long, the waves of orgasm crashed over her, and when she finished it was only a couple more thrusts before he stilled inside her and released his pent-up breath.

They settled on the bed together, laying on their sides and just looking at each other as they caught their breath. She kissed him languorously, enjoying the taste of him as their tongues danced together. They’d shared angry kisses, adrenaline-fueled kisses, passionate kisses, and finally had gotten around to playful, butterfly-induced kisses. And this round of sex wasn’t just needy, heated sex, trying to get something out of their system. This was because they both liked each other, wanted to _be_ with each other. So now, these kisses were just for the pure enjoyment of it. Not angry, or needy, or rushed, or means to an end. Just because she wanted to kiss him, no other agenda.

When she finally pulled away. laying on her back, he half chuckled, “Shyla, you are a wonder.”

“Oh stop,” she waved her hand dismissively.

He leaned over her, propping himself on an elbow, “Oh, love, don’t hide from me now. That was incredible, _you_ are incredible.”

“That’s just the afterglow talking.”

“I could understand not thinking the first time meant anything, even if I disagreed. But you don’t mean to tell me that tonight was nothing to you?”

“No, Sam, that’s not what I meant. Tonight was wonderful. You were wonderful, and the sex was fantastic. I just…are you really sure about this?”

He put his hand on her cheek and gently turned her face to his, “How is it you’re still asking that?”

“I just…right now, you’re in the sex-haze, and we had a great date. But…I mean, we didn’t get started off on the right foot. You saw…well, you saw what a stubborn bitch I can be, and just how full of anxiety and vengeance I can be. And if things go poorly, we’ll still be neighbors, still sharing a wall.”

“And? I still like you, even with a preview of your worst days. And it’s not like we’re roommates.”

“I’m just saying: right now would be a good time to back away, if you want to. We had some great sex, we like each other, but it hasn’t gotten serious or anything. We’re on good terms, but it’s not Big Feelings on the line. If we keep seeing each other…”

“If we keep seeing each other, we, what, risk being happy? I will grant that you have the capacity to be the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met. But that’s just because you challenge me. You’re smart, you’re strong. I need someone like you in my life. You seem to be fighting this awful hard, is this something _you_ want?”

“I…yeah, I think I do. I don’t need someone who is perfect. But at your worst, you were never vengeful, you never tried to hurt me. Your mouth ran off without your brain a couple times, but there are worse things to do in a fight. And tonight I tried really, really hard not to like you. Honestly, even when I was getting ready, I was convincing myself that this would just get us on a path to being friends and neighbors, and we could put everything else aside. I know I can be difficult, so really, I thought I was saving you. But you, sir, can be very convincing…” she slid her hand up to poke him in the chest.

He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and then held it to his chest. “I don’t need saving from you.”


End file.
